


Let The Shadows Fall Behind You

by CrazedPanda



Series: Home Is Whenever I'm With You [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (implied) torture, A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Multi, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 08:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15553287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Takes place five days after the end of the last chapter - Y/N has been being held by her kidnapper this whole time. The aftermath.As promised, I tried not to make you have to wait too long in suspense.My betas were incredible as usual helping me get this in some sort of state fit to post- Edge_of_Clairvoyance and ToscaRosetti. I highly recommend going to check out their stuff if you haven't already!





	Let The Shadows Fall Behind You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm worried this isn't as a/b/o as some people might want, but this is still just the beginning of the story. As the end of this chapter might suggest, we're getting into more traditional dynamic-related content, but this is still an Omega-verse story told my way. In other words, we'll get to the porn, but it's not without plot ;) (not that I'm dissing pwp, it's just not what my brain creates. Also not trying to suggest this is good or unique plot, lol)

She floated back to consciousness. She'd lost track of how many times she'd woken up, the only measurement she'd had as to how long she'd been living in this nightmare. The rough cord securing her arms behind her back dug into her wrists as she stirred, but it barely registered between the pounding in her head, the burning of her throat, and the myriad of other aches.

There was a commotion outside the small room - almost a storage closet - where she was being held. She heard a crash and voices. She cringed and tried to sit up so she'd be ready for whatever was about to happen. The door burst open and she shrank back from the figure that came through. He was holding a gun, and for a second she thought this was it, she was going to die, but he pivoted it back and forth, scanning the small space before lowering it completely, and tucking it out of sight. 

His expression as he crouched down and focused entirely on her was barely contained rage and she felt a split second of overwhelming panic. He must have seen it on her face, because he paused and drew back slightly. Pain and worry etched their way across his features. “Y/N,” his voice seemed choked, but he swallowed and continued. “It's going to be okay. You're safe now.” 

He seemed so sad, her arms suddenly twitched with the desire to reach out and soothe the anxious expression from off his face, but of course her bindings wouldn't allow that. She had to speak. Her throat rasped like she'd swallowed sandpaper. “Sam?”

“It's me, I'm here. I'm gonna . . .” He reached down and drew his knife, moving slowly and watching her reaction to every move as he did it. “I'm gonna cut you loose, then I'm going to get you out of here, okay?”

She nodded, holding her breath, but sighed with relief when she could bring her arms back into a natural position. They were a bit numb and still sore, but at least now she could reach out and latch onto the front of Sam's jacket. She wasn't planning on letting him out of her sight, but it seemed he had the same idea, with the determined way he held her against his chest. “Okay, okay, I'm going to lift you. I'm going to try not to hurt you. Here we go.”

He was so careful that she felt no additional pain as he picked her up in a bridal carry but she kept her tight hold on his jacket. His scent was permeated with sweat, blood, and raw fear, but was unmistakably her Sam's. She never wanted to be away from its comfort again. When he got to the door of her cell he paused and peered out. “Dean?”

Dean was here? She felt a sliver of fear for his safety. Where was . . .?

The answering voice was terse, “All clear. Get her out of here. I'll clean up. Hey, don't . . .” He let his sentence hang meaningfully. 

Sam gave a single nod, “Hey, Y/N, I need you to keep your face turned toward me and close your eyes. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Yes, Sam,” she croaked. She buried her face in his shoulder and shut her eyes tight. Soon enough she could see a tinge of orange through her eyelids and feel the warm sunlight. There was a small jolt and a creak of a car door. 

“Oh. You can open your eyes now, Y/N.” She did so slowly, blinking against the sunlight. 

Sam continued, “You did really good. Everything's okay. I'm gonna put you in the back seat, alright?”

Her eyes widened and she twisted her fingers in his jacket, determined to make it impossible to disentangle them all. “Please!” was the only word she could manage. 

“Hey. Hey! Okay! I'm not going anywhere,” he pressed her to his chest as if to convince her of his sincerity. 

She felt her heart rate return to normal and he waited while she recovered. When he spoke, it was slowly, imbued with calm alpha pheromones. “Alright, I'm going to put you in the back seat, but I'm going to sit back here with you, okay? I promise. I just need to get you settled first, okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and nodded. He gently arranged her so she was curled on her side in the backseat of the classic car Dean always drove. Her back was resting against the back of the long bench seat. He eased her shoulders up just enough and slipped underneath until she was laying partway in his lap. Her fingers clutched at the empty air, she wasn't sure what to do with them now that she had nothing to hold on to. Sam must have noticed, because he reached over and wrapped both her hands in one of his, his left arm arching over her protectively. 

He seemed to be staring out the window toward the building where Dean still was. He began to murmur, almost rambling, “Sleep if you can, Y/N. You're safe. You're going to be okay. I'm gonna fix this. I-" his cough sounded suspiciously wet and he was even quieter when he was able to finish, “I'm sorry.”

She whimpered and tried to sit up at hearing the guilt in his voice, but his arm was in the way. “Hey. Easy,” he carefully guided her to slightly turn her torso so she was looking up at him and he could see her face. “I didn't mean to upset you. Do you think you can _try_ to sleep?”

She would do almost anything to erase the haunted look he was trying his best to hide from her. She nodded and turned herself back around, partially burying her face in his pants leg. She found herself resisting falling asleep. Maybe if she just lay quietly inhaling the safety inherent in her Sam being there, it would be good enough.

She studied the small pattern in the stitching of the denim her cheek was resting on. There was a little place that her attention kept coming back to where some of the threads were worn a lighter color and a few had been loosened. It seemed an infinite length of time later when a loud creak made her jump. 

“It's done. We're out of here. How's she doing?” 

She could partly see Dean, framed by the driver's side door, if she squinted. He seemed, dark, somehow; she missed the scamp of a boy she always saw in his eyes. Now they seemed . . . blank. It worried her. She lifted her head a little so she could see him better. “Dean.”

His blank look was chased away by one of grim concern and she felt some of the tightness in her chest loosen. “I'm here, kid. You look like a million bucks. We're gonna get you outta here, okay? You good?”

Sam brushed her hair with the hand that wasn't occupied with hers and she sank back down into his lap. “Okay.” 

Something else seemed to relax in Dean at the one word she'd managed, and, as he slid into the driver's seat as if he belonged there, she was thrilled, though she wasn't exactly sure why it had worked. 

The roar of the car's engine was a little startling, she'd never heard it from this close before, but it was fast and it made her feel better to know they were putting distance between themselves and - that place.

The boys exchanged a few words, every now and then, but she found herself fading in and out. Everything seemed muffled and fuzzy like she was immersed in clouded water. She was exhausted somehow, even though she'd basically just woke up, but still didn't want to let Sam out of her sight.

She caught Dean's, “ . . . waiting at the bunker . . .” Which seemed to grudgingly satisfy Sam for some reason. She could not grasp the context of their words, though. She wasn't too troubled about it. She couldn't be. They were both here, safe, and she was with them so she knew she was safe. She let herself drift. 

Some time later (she couldn't be sure) she realized Sam was talking to her. “Hey, Y/N. Can you drink some water for me?”

She couldn't find the words to answer verbally, but she let him cradle her head and swallowed sip-fulls of water from the bottle he held to her lips.

She felt like she drowsed for longer after that. The water soothed her throat a little and made her feel even more comfortable. The next time she met Sam's eyes, he tried to give her a small smile. “We're almost there, okay?” she must have looked as puzzled as she felt. He brushed a hand delicately across her forehead. “We're taking you to the bunker. Uh, it's not really . . . It's home. It's safe.”

He still looked worried, so she sleepily smiled back, “O-kay.” 

The next thing she knew, she was laying in a bed. Alone. She experience a moment of panic, until she heard their voices and realized they were nearby. There was a third person in the room, an intimidating looking man in a khaki trench coat. Neither Sam nor Dean seemed afraid of him, so she quelled her anxiety and tried to focus on their conversation.

Dean was questioning the dark haired man with a slightly aggressive edge, “What does that mean?” 

The man's voice was stilted and gravelly, “I have taken care of her injuries, but what she's experienced is bound to cause trauma beyond the physical. She'll still need rest and time to heal. Unless you want me to erase her memories, I've done everything I can for her.”

What? She must have stirred or made some small noise, because all three men fell silent and turned their attention toward her at that moment. Dean put a hand on the stranger's upper arm and partially pushed, partially guided him until they were outside the door to the room and shut it behind them. Meanwhile Sam moved to her side, cautiously reaching to brush his fingers across hers. 

She sat up a bit, leaning on one elbow, “Sam?”

“Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?” His tender concern brought tears to her eyes so she quickly put his mind at ease. 

“I'm, good. It, it doesn't hurt anymore.” the last words were spoken in wonder as she realized the vast difference from the last time she was conscious. Her throat wasn't even sore. 

Sam turned his head away from her for a second. She didn't like that and was glad when he looked back. “That's really good. I'm glad. Do you need some water; are you hungry? Whatever you need.”

She felt overwhelmed with so many options, not sure what she wanted most. When the answer came to her she spoke it without thinking, then she almost wished she could take back just blurting out, “You.” It wasn't appropriate, and maybe he wouldn't like it. She looked up to see his reaction, embarrassed. 

He seemed stunned, but could tell she was anxious about his reaction to her confession, so he gave her his best attempt at a smile. “Okay, well that's easy enough; you got me as long as you need me. But if we get you some food, do you think you could eat something?”

“Umm, yeah?” she wasn't sure, but she would try.

He got his phone out and pushed some buttons on it. “Dean’s gonna grab you something, alright?”

“He's coming back?”

“Yeah, he's just running to the kitchen.” 

“What about the trench coat guy?”

Sam let out a surprised chuckle, “That was our friend, Cas. He left.”

“But not Dean?” she persisted

“No, he'll be right back.”

Finally satisfied, she turned her focus back to Sam. “C-can, ah, please can you sit on the bed with me?”

“Um, sure, let's get you more comfortable first.” 

The bed was plenty big enough for two people and he helped her scoot back toward the headboard a little and used some pillows to prop her up. She was on her back, a bit closer to the edge of the bed on her left side, and he was careful not to jostle her as he sat beside her on her right. She tentatively leaned against him and he responded by twining the fingers of his left hand into those of her right hand. 

There was a knock on the door and Y/N was startled until Sam squeezed her hand reassuringly. The door opened and Dean came in carrying a bowl of hot chicken broth and some cold bottled waters. He handed the bowl to Sam so he could help her hold it steady and propped the waters near her knee. 

He acted like he was going to leave the room and she felt her breathing pick up. “Dean!’

He stopped in his tracks, his answer was gentle, “Hey, it's alright. You want me to stick around?”

She felt a sob bubble up from her throat, “Yes, please!”

“You've got it.” He pulled the armchair up to the left side of the bed till she could have reached out and touched it.

She ate some of the broth until she felt her eyelids drooping, and Sam stuck the bowl on the nightstand and told her she could sleep if she wanted. 

“Will. Uh, could you please stay?”

“Of course, I'm not going anywhere,” Sam replied warmly.

She turned to her other side, “And Dean?” Her arm unconsciously stretched out toward him on the bedspread. 

He looked surprised, but his answer was light and breezy, “Of course, I'm not leaving you, I'll be right here when you get up.”

Content, she let herself drift off. 

 

The room had been still for over an hour when Dean decided it was safe to talk as long as he was quiet. Plus, Sam needed to know. He didn't think he could keep up his nerve if he looked at Sam’s face while he was revealing what he'd learned, and looking at her was out of the question. 

He stared at their joined hands; that was safe - hopeful. He began in as monotone as he could manage. “Hey, Sammy, there's something you have to hear. The shifter started running his mouth before I offed him. It . . . Sam, it used your face. That's how it got her in the car. It, uh said that shifter we ganked last March was it's son or something. It was after revenge. Said . . . Made it sound like she was never going to let you near her again.”

“Fuck. Dean. Fuck, how _can_ she want me near her after . . ? Should I go?”

“No. No, listen, I don't know how, but she does. She made you promise you'd stay. What am I supposed to tell her if you're gone, hmm?! Anyway, that's not all.”

Sam gave him a desperate look and he hurried to reassure him, “The other part’s not as bad, just something you oughta know.”

“Hit me,”

“You notice she was throwing off omega scent hardcore since we found her?”

“Uh, I guess, I didn't really stop to think. I had no idea she was . . .”

“No, me neither. It's a safe bet she’s been on suppressants. Possibly for some time. And the five days that thing was holding her, she wasn't taking em.”

“Do we, should we get her some?”

He shook his head. “Cas said her heat's been tripped. Which means it's too late for that. We have a couple days to get her - whatever she needs; wherever she needs to go, but that's it.”


End file.
